


Burst

by Shironeko_kohai



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Character Study, First Kiss, Kravitz catches some feelings, M/M, POV Second Person, and by some I do mean lots, mlm author, this is really just a lot of me being gay and projecting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-10
Updated: 2017-04-10
Packaged: 2018-10-17 07:51:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10589640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shironeko_kohai/pseuds/Shironeko_kohai
Summary: His hand cradles your cheek and suddenly his finger is in your ear and he is laughing and you are laughing and you have never felt like this in  the many years of your existence. This is the boy who took what was supposed to be a negotiation for dozens of lives to a wine and pottery class, the boy who put a comforting hand on your knee and refused to make what the instructor told him to, the boy a small part of you wished was dead so that you could have him all to yourself. (You do not want him to die. You want him to live as you never got to. He deserves that. He deserves so much.)





	

**Author's Note:**

> well anyway I'm gay and in love with Taako and uh... it shows.

You still remember your first kiss, despite it being hundreds (thousands?) of years ago. You were young and he was beautiful and you both leaned in at the same time. It was nice. This is nothing like that. You are not young, and neither is the boy who is kissing you. (He is beautiful. He is the most beautiful thing you have ever seen.)

This is not the boy you spent minutes with before you kissed behind your father’s barn (Or was it his father’s barn? Did your family ever have a barn?) and never saw again. This is the boy who held your hand after a date that wasn’t supposed to be a date, the boy who refused to bargain for his life and instead opened up to you in a strangely named wine and pottery class. This is the boy who managed to bullshit his way into a second (ninth?) chance at life. (He would argue that he charmed his way into the second chance, and while you are charmed, he is still full of shit and you both know it.)

This boy is the first person who’s had any interest in you after your death, though you can’t imagine why he does. You suppose he’s just ridiculous enough to seduce the Grim Reaper. (This isn’t seduction at all, it’s courtship and you both know it.)

He leans into you and brushes your hair out of your eyes as you melt against each other, and you pull away to take a breath before remembering that you haven’t needed to breathe for centuries. He presses your noses together and you can’t see anything but his eyes, but you can feel his grin in the way he breathes against yours.

His hand cradles your cheek and suddenly his finger is in your ear and he is laughing and you are laughing and you have never felt like this in the many years of your existence. This is the boy who took what was supposed to be a negotiation for dozens of lives to a wine and pottery class, the boy who put a comforting hand on your knee and refused to make what the instructor told him to, the boy a small part of you wished was dead so that you could have him all to yourself. (You do not want him to die. You want him to live as you never got to. He deserves that. He deserves so much.)

This is the boy you tried so hard to kill, the boy who ate a bomb without a moment’s hesitation, the boy who quite literally flirted with death. With you. This is the boy who saved your life when he logically should have allowed you to die. You let him live because you had never met anyone like him. You let him live the second time because you wanted to see what he would do next.

In some universes, there is something called the butterfly effect. You do not live within any of these universes, but you still think often about how things could be different if the tiniest aspects of the past were changed. (If you hadn’t kissed that boy behind a barn all those years ago, would you be kissing this boy now? Would he be kissing you? Would you be sitting here, unable to distinguish between his legs and yours, with a hand on the back of his neck and his laughter in your face?)

He tells you through lingering bouts of laughter that your lips are just as cold as your hands, and you ask whether he plans to warm them up. You have never said anything like this to him. (You have never said anything like this to anyone.) He looks surprised, but so, so happy, and you slip your fingers into his hair as he tells you that he would love to.

You remember you first kiss despite it being so long ago that you’ve lost count of the years, but it is nothing like this one. This is nothing like kissing a boy you barely know behind a barn. This is something slower, more familiar. This is everything you wanted your first kiss to be. This is everything your first kiss wasn’t. This is a future shown in a single moment, the potential of domesticity and happiness and life after death for the first time.

You are not in love, but the unspoken “yet" lingers on your mouth long after his lips have gone.


End file.
